<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Love the stars too fondly to fear the night by MVforVictory</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099172">Love the stars too fondly to fear the night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MVforVictory/pseuds/MVforVictory'>MVforVictory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Deep blue, but you painted me golden [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>P1Harmony (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Antifan, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Choi Jiung-centric, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Poisoning, Theo best boy, Yoon Keeho-centric, i legit don't know what else to tag here, okay get ready for this one</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MVforVictory/pseuds/MVforVictory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, Keeho should have known better.<br/>In hindsight, Keeho should have known better, but Jiung doesn’t give a fuck about hindsight right now.</p><p> </p><p>Someone tried to poison Keeho. Someone potentially <i>succeeded</i> in poisoning Keeho.<br/>Rationally, he understands it could have been meant for any one of them, but he knows that’s not the case. Jiung knows, without any need to see the person at fault for this, that their sights had been set on Keeho from the beginning.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Taeyang | Theo &amp; Yoon Keeho, Choi Taeyang | Theo/Yoon Keeho, Choi Taeyang | Theo/Yoon Keeho/Choi Jiung, Haku Shota | Soul &amp; Yoon Keeho, Yoon Keeho &amp; Choi Jiung, Yoon Keeho &amp; Hwang Intak, Yoon Keeho &amp; Kim Jongseob, Yoon Keeho/Choi Jiung, but like. almost.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Deep blue, but you painted me golden [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi so</p><p>hahah</p><p>this exists?? i dont know i've been real simpy for Yunho from TVXQ recently and was thinking about his poisoning incident and well<br/>yeah, sorry</p><p>this is bad and i wrote it really fast happy 100 days to P1Harmony (or soon enough) depending on how early i post this?<br/>also (adhd not sorry) this is just a part of a series now i guess but the first one isnt really needed</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In hindsight, Keeho should have known better.</p><p>In hindsight, Keeho should have known better, but Jiung doesn’t give a <em> fuck </em>about hindsight right now. </p>
<hr/><p>The days passed by before Jiung even had time to wonder where they had gone. In (seemingly) the blink of an eye, 100 days had come and gone—and Jiung felt like he was on top of the world. </p><p>He’s never felt more <em> fulfilled. </em> All of the pieces of his life that never quite fit, that Jiung couldn’t figure out which way to turn them to make the picture even slightly clearer, began finding their places one by one. Now, Jiung can see the picture that’s starting to take shape, and he <em> really </em> likes what he’s seeing.</p><p>FNC is far from perfect—far from <em> good, </em> even—but they were the first company that had given Jiung any sort of hope for making it as an idol, and that was more than Jiung had been able to say even a year ago.</p><p>Now, he’s standing on the wings of a stage he’s only ever dreamed of being able to perform on, and if he really thinks about it, he can almost hear the hundreds of fans cheering their name as they wait for them to take the stage.</p><p>Sadly, that piece of the puzzle is going to take some more time before it fits itself into the picture, as pandemic regulations were still in place and the venue was devoid of any individuals outside of staff and the artists filming their performances that day.</p><p>Jiung knows for a <em> fact </em> that he just saw Hui from Pentagon walk past him. It took everything in him not to scream.</p><p>“Ready in 5,” he hears someone call, “Finish syncing the lights for this set.”</p><p>
  <em> Deep breath. </em>
</p><p>Jiung doesn’t know if he’s ever going to grow tired of this feeling.</p><p>His heart pounds with nervous excitement, the same energy he can see practically rolling off Jongseob in waves. That still surprises Jiung, seeing as Jongseob, while the youngest, had likely the most experience on stage out of all of them, as well as the most exposure. Maybe that was further proof that Jiung would be able to hold onto this feeling for a while longer.</p><p>“Has anyone seen Keeho?”</p><p>Jiung turns to see Taeyang separating himself from several sound technicians attempting to secure his mic pack to his belt, waving them off when their hands stray a little too close for his comfort. He waits for their manager’s admonishment for coming off as rude, but it never comes.</p><p>“He was talking with the make-up artists, last I saw,” Intak says, joining up with Jiung and Taeyang, “Probably flirting, knowing him.”</p><p><em> Old habits die hard. </em>Too bad Keeho would only be getting those girls’ hopes up.</p><p>Taeyang’s eyes narrow, trying to act like he wasn’t concerned, yet failing spectacularly, “Well, he shouldn’t be going off so close to our cue. It’s not very professional.”</p><p>Jiung hears Intak begin to rib Taeyang for that statement, when Taeyang had just been the one to swat away a staff member’s hands, but he’s already walking away in search of their leader.</p><p>He can’t help when the nervous energy tints itself slightly darker. When the tense set of Taeyang’s shoulders begins to mirror in Jiung’s own. He hasn’t stopped thinking about that vLive they had a few weeks ago, where the comments had gotten bad enough that they had to stop the broadcast before Keeho had a fucking <em> panic attack </em> in front of thousands of people. </p><p>Jiung couldn’t stop himself from spending hours that night curled around his phone, scrolling through Twitter to find screenshots of all the comments he somehow managed to miss earlier. He cried himself to sleep, thinking about Keeho’s frantic breathing as he sobbed and shuddered and broke apart in Taeyang’s arms.</p><p>So, yeah, it would be safe to say that they’ve all been feeling a little bit more…<em>protective—</em>Jiung thinks that might be the most applicable word—since it’s been brought to their attention just how much negativity Keeho faced every time he so much as opened Twitter.</p><p>He isn’t disillusioned, he’s aware that getting hate is par for the course when in the entertainment industry, but Jiung at least has the blissful ignorance of not understanding the language a majority of the comments happen to be in. Keeho doesn’t.</p><p>It’s addicting. He’s watched Jongseob make a point of covering his mouth every time he smiled, after reading comments about his teeth and how they weren’t “fitting of an idol’s image.” He’s watched a <em> 15-year-old </em>stare at himself for entire dance practices because some faceless account on the internet planted the idea that he was ugly in his head.</p><p>It’s not fair, but Jiung’s come to accept that.</p><p>“1 minute, everyone,” the same sound technician calls out, Jiung nods to him before turning back to Taeyang in question.</p><p>“This isn’t like him,” Taeyang mumbles, Juing barely catches it with his in-ears already in place, “He’s usually the first one ready.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s—”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” Keeho says, after having pushed his way past several of the backstage staff to join them on the wings. He seemed out of breath, paler than Jiung can ever remember seeing him—save for his unfortunate witnessing of Keeho’s nearly-public panic attack that the internet still speculated about—and he can’t help but be worried, “Got a little sidetracked, but it’s all good now. You guys set?” </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Jiung sees Taeyang reach his hand out towards Keeho, before deciding against it and letting his arm fall. “What do you mean, ‘sidetracked’?”</p><p>Keeho opens his mouth, and then closes it just as quickly—he and Taeyang seemingly having a silent conversation that Jiung can’t follow before finally deciding on, “I wasn’t feeling well, someone got me another Powerade to try and help.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you say you were sick?”</p><p>“I felt fine until then, honestly,” Keeho mumbles, absentmindedly wrapping an arm around his stomach and only managing to draw attention to it by immediately dropping the position, “It’ll be fine, though. It’s really not that bad.” </p><p>Jiung has no other option than to trust Keeho because in the next second, they’re being herded to the stage and the lights are dimmed, letting them know that they have seconds to get to their places and in position for everything to run as planned.</p><p>It ends up slipping his mind the moment he hears the opening to Siren, no thoughts except performing like he wasn’t in front of an empty audience for the sake of normalcy for everyone watching at home. <em>For the fans.</em></p><p>It’s not until the final notes fade out that Jiung thinks to check on Keeho, but before he can even do that, Taeyang’s worried gaze catches his attention for a second, until Jiung finally turns to Keeho and immediately knows letting him walk onto this stage could very quickly turn into a regret.</p><p>There’s nothing he can do now, except keep an eye out of Keeho’s rapidly palling face and jerky movements. Every stumble that follows a too-quick turn.</p><p>For the first time, Jiung is thankful for the lack of screaming fans in front of them, because the sinking feeling in his gut was only getting worse as Butterfly becomes Nemonade and they’re <em> one </em> song away from wrapping up their 100 Days special and—  </p><p>Keeho stumbles backstage before Jiung has the chance to finish that thought. He’s moving before the next line even begins to play, his own loud breathing echoing in his mic until he rips it off.</p><p>And then he sees something that nearly brings him to his knees.</p><p><em> “Keeho,” </em> Jiung raggedly gasps out, scrambling forward to where Keeho was leaning heavily against the wall, breaths coming out in heavy pants and swaying dangerously. Jiung’s hands are on him in seconds, just barely keeping Keeho’s body from hitting the ground. Distracted, he vaguely registers his own voice snapping something to get the staff members <em> away </em>from them, but then Keeho’s legs give out and Jiung is pulled to the ground with him.</p><p>“I—I don’t feel right,” Keeho stutters, words slurring, “Som’thin’ wrong.”</p><p>Taeyang reaches them not even a second later. “What’s wrong?” Keeho’s hand fumbles for his boyfriend’s, grabbing it tight enough that Jiung can see his knuckles turning white. “Keeho, what’s wrong?” Taeyang repeats, more frantic this time.</p><p>“Hurts—F-Feel sick. Hurts. I—”</p><p>Without warning, Keeho pitches forward and gags. Jiung feels every muscle in his body lock up, but Taeyang is up and on his feet between one heave and the next, yelling for the medical team and body shaking with rage from something Jiung can’t see past the spastic rise and fall of Keeho’s shoulders.</p><p>And then he catches a glimpse of blue—the <em> Powerade, </em> it’s the Powerade Keeho mentioned—before the heaving turns into hacking and spluttering and <em> wheezing </em> and Jiung feels panic run through his veins like ice.</p><p>The Powerade. Something was in the Powerade. Jiung can’t think of any other explanation because this is something so much more than Keeho being <em> just sick. </em> He’s seen Keeho <em> just sick. </em> He’s warm but not as feverish as he <em> should </em> be, if he were <em>just sick. </em>He’s in pain and choking in Jiung’s arms and something is really fucking wrong.</p><p>Keeho’s breathing gets more unsteady with each unsuccessful gag until Jiung can’t think of any other option. There’s a good chance he’s paranoid, but even thinking about the possibility of that not being the case has his heart hammering against his ribs.</p><p>“Keeho,” Jiung pleads, his voice hoarse and throat aching in sympathy for what he’s about to do. “Please, please be okay.”</p><p>It’s anything but gentle, the way he shoves his fingers past Keeho’s lips, and Jiung is hit with the striking reality of the situation.</p><p>Someone tried to poison Keeho. Someone potentially <em> succeeded </em> in poisoning Keeho. </p><p>Rationally, he understands it could have been meant for any one of them, but he knows that’s not the case. Jiung knows, without any need to see the person at fault for this, that their sights had been set on Keeho from the beginning.</p><p>Taeyang continues to yell. Jiung hears things that he never would have imagined could come from their quiet eldest’s mouth, aimed at some poor, unsuspecting staff member—but, no. That wasn’t right.  </p><p>The girl that had been talking to Keeho. With the lanyard that was <em> almost </em> the same color as the others, but the few shades it had been off now stand out strikingly obvious in Jiung’s memory. She had been the one to give Keeho the Powerade. </p><p>“Nothing’s <em> happening,” </em>Jongseob cries out, “H-Hyung. Is—Is he gonna be okay? What’s happening? Nothing’s happening! Why isn’t—”</p><p>“Jongseob!” Jiung snaps, hating himself for it just seconds after but he can’t focus like this. He needs Taeyang here with them, but Taeyang was likely trying to figure out what the fuck was in that drink, and just how much time they have until it’s too late. Jiung can’t tear his eyes away from Keeho.</p><p>Thankfully, Intak pulls Jongseob against his chest and begins to lead him away from where Keeho had collapsed. Jiung braces his other arm against Keeho’s convulsing chest, not trusting the other boy to keep himself up in the state he was in.</p><p>“Keeho-yah,” he repeats, trying to flatten the shakiness of his tone and not succeeding in the slightest, “Everything’s gonna be fine.” </p><p>But Jongseob was <em> right, </em> nothing was happening and Jiung can’t quite manage to clamp down the panic that rattles around in his chest. He forces his fingers in deeper this time, wincing when he feels his nails hit against the back of Keeho’s throat, but he doesn’t have time to feel bad, not when he doesn’t know what was in that fucking <em> drink </em> or how long they have to wait for the paramedics to arrive.</p><p>Jiung knows—he fucking <em> knows </em> you’re not supposed to make someone throw up when they’ve swallowed chemicals, but he doesn’t know if that applies when they’re already throwing up. And he <em> really </em> doesn’t know if that applies when they’re fucking throwing up blood, backstage at a music show that shouldn’t have <em> anyone </em> that wasn’t an artist or staff and Jiung doesn’t fucking <em> understand. </em></p><p>His heart skips when Keeho coughs, throat contracting around his fingers and Jiung barely manages to pull his hand away before more blue coats the floor in front of them. Keeho splutters and gasps in his hold, Jiung can feel the muscles in his stomach spasming under his arm. He holds his breath until it finally stops. Until everything stops.</p><p>For a brief, terrifying second, Keeho doesn’t move at all. His head hangs almost limp, and all Jiung can see is the sheen of sweat covering the back of his neck. Until Jiung tightens his grip across Keeho’s middle, jostling him enough to pull Keeho back to a semi-conscious state.</p><p>“C’mon, man,” Jiung mumbles, “Stay with me, Keeho, please.”</p><p>Jiung can feel him try to shake his head, but even that must be too much effort because Keeho barely manages to lift his neck before he sinks forward again, shivering in Jiung’s arms. He lets out a pitiful moan, half-delirious, as he mumbles something Jiung can’t make out over the sound of his own heart beating in his ears.</p><p>If it weren’t for Jiung’s shaking arms wrapped around him, he knows for a fact that Keeho would have collapsed to the ground, like a puppet that’s had its strings cut.</p><p><em> “Keeho,” </em>Jiung sobs out, scrambling to pull the other boy back against him. He follows willingly, limp in his arms and Jiung feels his throat seize up as he guides Keeho’s head to rest against his shoulder.</p><p>Again, silence. Jiung holds his breath, straining his ears to catch the quiet rattling in Keeho’s chest with each ragged inhale he takes. It’s taking everything Jiung doesn’t have to keep from breaking down, but he knows he can’t, no matter how hard it is to stop himself from crumbling when Keeho whines against his shoulder, curling in on himself as much as he possibly can with Jiung’s unrelenting grip around him.</p><p>“Make it—Make it <em> stop,” </em> Keeho moans out, voice weaker than Jiung can ever remember hearing it, “I don’wanna die. Please. <em> Please—” </em></p><p>Jiung can’t take it any longer. </p><p>The first sob rips itself from his throat before he even has the chance to bite his tongue, belatedly clamping his jaw shut in the hopes of suppressing any that follow but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work, and Jiung is unable to fight back the panic that coils in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>He can’t think. Can’t do anything to answer Taeyang when the blonde finally drops in front of them, chest heaving with the remnants of the hysterical rage he just unleashed on that <em>monster </em>and whatever other poor soul had fallen victim to it.</p><p>Jiung doesn’t know how long he sits there, sobbing into Keeho’s electric blue hair and screaming each time someone that isn’t Taeyang gets close enough to touch them.</p><p>It’s not until he’s forcefully pulled back that Jiung’s ears finally find whatever frequency the others had been existing on, opening his eyes to the navy blue-clad chest that now blocks his vision.</p><p>“You’re gonna have to let go, kid,” the man says, not unkindly, but Jiung’s breath still catches at the idea of letting Keeho out of his sight again. </p><p>“Jiung,” Taeyang cuts in, firmer, but his eyes still hold the same anxiety Jiung can feel clogging his throat, “C’mon, baby. Everything’s gonna be fine. Keeho’s gonna be okay, but we’ve gotta get him some help.”</p><p>Sirens continue to wail outside. <em> How fitting, </em> Jiung bitterly thinks, <em> that the sound of sirens would have such wildly different, painfully contrasting memories to him. </em></p><p>Keeho is pulled out of his arms in a flash of navy and yellow, bodies pressing too close, and the collar of his shirt feels too constricting and Jiung—Jiung doesn’t know what he’s supposed to <em> do </em> now. His only priority had been Keeho, and keeping Keeho awake and aware and he’s not even sure he had done that well enough.</p><p>Jiung doesn’t know what he’ll do if Keeho’s last words to him end up being <em> ‘I don’t want to die.’ </em></p><p>He can hear the paramedics asking him questions. None of the words sound even remotely recognizable, but Taeyang is the one to answer each one and Jiung’s eyes stay locked on the ground in front of him, where the electric blue (another thing ruined) Powerade still stains the floor.</p><p>Jiung doesn’t move until Taeyang and Intak manage to physically uproot him, standing him up on weak knees and numb legs. He nearly crumbles back down, but Taeyang keeps a firm grip around Jiung’s forearms, supporting enough of his weight that Jiung can just focus on breathing as he stares down at his shaking hands.</p><p>Keeho could have died.</p><p>Keeho could have died.</p><p>
  <em> Keeho could still die. </em>
</p><p>“Jiungie-hyung,” Intak’s voice cracked after the first syllable of his name, making Jiung’s head finally snap up. He’s not the only one struggling to hold it together, that much is obvious, as he’s led outside the venue by Intak’s clammy palm pressed into his own and their manager’s heavy hand weighing down his shoulders. There had been no question of if they wanted to follow the ambulance, no direction outside of Taeyang’s unwavering march to the van. Jiung squeezes his eyes shut against the lingering flashes of <em> red blue red blue redblueredblue </em> as the ambulance disappears into traffic, trusting Intak to lead him better than he could himself.</p><p>Keeho is in there.</p><p>Keeho is in there, and there’s a chance that he won’t be when they finally arrive at the hospital. There’s a chance that it won’t be <em> Keeho </em> in there, and it’ll just be a still, unmoving body of a boy with blue hair and blue lips and a heart of gold that’s never going to beat again.</p><p>Keeho’s parents are going to lose their baby and his older siblings will no longer have a youngest to torment. Intak and Jongseob are going to lose their leader, their guide, their friend. Shota is going to lose the closest thing to a brother he’s ever had. Taeyang is going to lose his first love. And Jiung? Jiung is going to lose his best friend, that he loves as much as Keeho aggravates him, maybe even more than he should. Jiung is going to lose the one person that gives him butterflies in his stomach and makes his heart skip beats and—</p><p>Jiung wants nothing more than to shout at their manager and beg him to step on the gas, to speed the fuck up and bring Jiung to Keeho, but with every mile that passes, with every mile that brings him closer to Keeho, Jiung feels himself shrinking back more and more. Collapsing in on himself and trying to hold everything together.</p><p>“Jiung-ah,” Taeyang pulls him closer, Jiung doesn’t realize how fast he’s breathing until Taeyang’s slow, steady counting brings him back down. “He’s going to get through this. <em> We’re </em> going to get through this, okay?”</p><p>Mindlessly, Jiung feels himself nodding against Taeyang’s shoulder, struggling to bite back the sobs as the bright red <em> ‘EMERGENCY MEDICAL CENTER’ </em>lights cut into vision and turns his blood cold when the van door slides open.</p><p>Taeyang has to pull him out of the van, even though Jiung wants nothing more than to bust his way through those doors and demand he be allowed to see Keeho. His body has other plans.</p><p>Like staring down at the few spots of blood that now stain his white hoodie. Blood that had come from Keeho’s mouth, staining his lips blue and red and blue and red and Jiung doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stomach blue Powerade again. Just thinking about it makes him feel nauseous, enough that he has to force himself out of Taeyang’s grip before doubling over in the parking lot. He barely has enough time to pull the mask from his face before vomit splashes onto the asphalt.</p><p>He’s left with a bitter taste in his mouth, but it gives him something more to focus on than the too-white walls and scent of antiseptic that hits his nose the second they make their way through the doors.</p><p>They’re sat in the furthest corner of the waiting room, far enough that Jiung can’t hear whatever their manager is saying to the young woman at the desk. Jiung can’t hear <em> anything, </em> really, over the sound of his unstable breathing and Shota’s never-ending flow of tears.</p><p>Jiung doesn’t know if he’s crying still. He thinks he might be, except when he raises his fingers to his eyes, they’re sore but dry, even as his cheeks remain tacky. </p><p>“We won’t be able to see him until they contact his parents or the company proves they have waivers,” Taeyang mumbles next to him, and he’s proven correct a second later when their manager walks back and restates just what the eldest had said.</p><p>He barely hears the man’s next words, something about <em> ethylene glycol </em> as Jongseob’s nimble fingers type the letters into the search engine on his phone. Jiung sees the word <em> antifreeze </em>pop up and he swears he’s going to be sick again. </p><p>
  <em> Keeho’s probably getting his stomach pumped right now. Was that a thing that happened in real life, or just in movies?  </em>
</p><p>“It was a moderate case. They’re hoping to prevent anything from metabolizing further into his bloodstream, but it’s looking like we brought him in before it could cause any irreversible harm. She couldn’t tell me more right now, but I’m going to contact Han Sungho-sajangnim and work this out immediately. The company will likely be taking legal measures to assure this…”</p><p>Jiung stops listening.</p><p>All he knows is that they’re not allowed to see Keeho right now, and he has to be alone in a hospital bed while they pump him full of however many more chemicals to reverse the chemicals that have already been <em> put in his body by someone for a malicious reason. </em> Someone tried to hurt Keeho and they’re not allowed to see him. Was he in pain? Was he even <em> conscious? </em> </p><p>Jiung feels the resentment swell inside him, sitting heavy against his stomach and he pushes himself out of the plastic chair, barely registering the stand of magazines he sends toppling to the floor as he shoulders past their manager. </p><p>He wishes he could push everything out in a blind fit of rage like Taeyang had at the venue, but even making it to the sink leaves him panting, exhausted, and dry-heaving into the drain below him. Taeyang is next to him sometime between that minute and the next, his hand rubbing between Jiung’s shoulder blades and stopping him from falling when his knees end up giving out again, leaving him on the cold floor of a hospital bathroom with his hands knotted in his hair and his face pressed against Taeyang’s shoulders.</p><p>
  <em>”W-Why—Why him?”</em>
</p><p>Taeyang only cries with him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know this is bad but deal with it</p><p>me: <i>*goes into P1H expecting to bias Jongseob bc my YG boy*</i><br/>keeho: "hey y'all-"</p><p>listen i didn't ask to be like this</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wooooooooooooo here it is here it is sorry keeho and sorry jiung oops</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jiungs eyes burn. Everything feels sore. His head is pounding. And the worst part is that he knows it’s nowhere near as bad as Keeho is probably feeling.</p><p>“They said we can see him now.”</p><p>Taeyang’s voice was rough, and when Jiung looks up, it’s clear that he has been crying. His eyes are red and raw, shoulders curled in and arms wrapped protectively around himself. </p><p>Taeyang is Keeho’s boyfriend, and it wasn’t fair of Jiung to be only thinking about the pain <em> he </em> was in when Taeyang is so clearly hurting just as much, if not more, but is trying to keep himself together for everyone else.</p><p>“We—” Jiung croaks out, before clearing his throat, “We can?”</p><p>“Mhm. They got everything worked out, Jiungie.” Taeyang reaches his hand out, meeting Jiung’s halfway and pulling him up. “We can go see him, if you think you’re ready?”</p><p>God, no. Jiung isn’t ready, but he can’t bear waiting any longer without being able to see for himself that Keeho is okay. Or, well, as okay as he could be.</p><p>“You’ve been sitting outside for a while,” Taeyang notes, rubbing his palms over Jiung’s arms when he’s finally stood up in front of him. </p><p>Also true. Jiung might have lost track of time after saying he needed space; sitting alone on a bench just outside of the entrance, waiting for the news to come that Keeho hadn’t made it.</p><p>
  <em> They said they caught it in time. He would be okay, but it’s been nearly 2 hours and no one has said anything. </em>
</p><p>He lets Taeyang lead him back inside, closing his eyes for a moment against the shock of fluorescent lights and trusting the singer to keep him in the right direction.</p><p>He can feel the sweat chilling his skin, making him shiver lightly as his legs tremble more with each step. Taeyang kept a secure arm around his waist, and Jiung can’t help but latch on to the back of the eldest’s shirt to hide the shaking of his fingers.</p><p>His entire body is shaking. Jiung wishes he could be like Taeyang, the calm presence they were all looking to during this entire incident, but he’s so, <em> so </em> afraid. Jiung is <em> terrified. </em> He wants nothing more to see Keeho, but he’s afraid that every terrible image his mind has conjured up is going to be true.</p><p>Jiung is going to walk in and see his best friend lying frighteningly still, looking frailer and smaller than ever in bland, white sheets. In a blander, whiter room. </p><p>And what if it’s even worse than that? What if Jiung isn’t allowed to go in because he’s stopped by a doctor, shaking his head in feigned remorse. A common occurrence for him; Keeho was just another body amongst many, so the doctor would have no trouble wiping his hands clean of Keeho’s blood. Jiung’s tears meant nothing to him.</p><p>But Keeho wasn’t just another body to <em> him, </em> Keeho was his best friend. Keeho was the brightest star in Jiung’s sky.</p><p><em> Is. </em> Keeho <em> is </em>the brightest star in Jiung’s sky, and he doesn’t know what he would ever do without that light. </p><p>The dark is daunting, <em> terrifying, </em> but Jiung had always loved the stars too fondly to fear the night.</p><p>Without Keeho’s light, Jiung doesn’t know if the sun would ever shine again for him.</p><p>Without Keeho’s light, Jiung doesn’t know if Taeyang would stay the same strong, comforting presence Jiung knows him as. He doesn’t know what they would do.</p><p>For so many people, Keeho would be just another headline, but for Jiung, it would be the end of the happiest and hardest chapter of his life. There is only one Yoon Keeho in the world, and Choi Jiung loves him more than anything.</p><p>He can’t love the Keeho his mind creates for him. The one lying with closed eyes and a heart of gold that would beat no more, even though it was too soon. Far too soon for someone so young, so bright.</p><p>And then, just like that, everything hits Jiung all at once. </p><p>Even though he knows Keeho is okay—<em>he has to be—</em>Jiung can’t stop thinking about Keeho’s voice, and how it had sounded like it was drug through gravel the last he heard it—<em>‘I don’t want to die’</em>—and what if Keeho can’t <em> sing anymore? </em>What if Keeho loses his light in a way Jiung hadn’t even thought of until this moment.</p><p>Jiung stops walking, stares down at his fingers and sees Keeho’s blood there. He knows he washed it off, but Jiung can still see the small drops of red staining his clothes. He can still feel Keeho heaving and gasping for breath in his arms. </p><p>He could have done more. He <em> should </em> have done more. Keeho was in pain and begging him for help and Jiung hadn’t been able to do anything but cry with him and beg, selfishly, for Keeho not to leave him. </p><p>“Jiung-ah?” Taeyang softly calls, pulling Jiung back into his arms barely a second after noticing Jiung’s irregular breathing and rapidly flushing pallor. “Keeho is going to be okay,” he says, quietly, carefully. Like he’s afraid Jiung is going to break if he speaks too loudly, and Jiung can’t help but feel that way, too. “The company decided it would be best for Jongseob and Shota to go back to the dorms for the night, and Intak decided to go with them. Do you think they would go so easily if there could be any chance that something was seriously wrong?”</p><p>Jiung wants to argue that <em> this is serious, Keeho was just </em> poisoned <em> by someone—someone was out to hurt Keeho and they hadn’t been able to stop her, </em> but he knows Taeyang hadn’t meant it that way.</p><p>Shota was like Keeho’s shadow, Taeyang was right, there would be no way he would leave Keeho’s side if there was any chance he wouldn’t make it. Jiung <em> knows </em> this, but it still isn’t enough to stop the barrage of images and scenarios his brain still conjures up.</p><p>“Jiung,” Taeyang repeats, placing a warm and steady hand on Jiung’s shoulder, even though he still can’t bring himself to meet Taeyang’s worried gaze. He continues to stare down at his hands and see Keeho in pain and bleeding—bright gold and deep, deep blue, instead of the vibrant red Jiung sees staining his hoodie—in his arms. “We don’t have to go if you’re not ready.”</p><p><em> “No!” </em> </p><p>His sudden cry startles Taeyang, hell, it startles <em> him, </em> and Jiung quickly shrinks back on himself. He can’t keep Taeyang from seeing Keeho, and he knows Taeyang won’t leave him if he chooses not to go. Jiung doesn’t have anything preventing him from seeing Keeho, nothing except his traitorous brain and the possibility that his greatest fear will become a reality.</p><p>“I—I need to see him,” Jiung shakes his head, almost frantically before Taeyang stills it with his other hand, “I need to see him, hyung. I need to—I need to see him.”</p><p>Taeyang nods, says something about telling him if everything becomes <em> too much, </em> but Jiung barely hears him. Everything was already <em> too much. </em> Everything has been <em> too much </em> since he saw Keeho collapse into himself, blue and red and blue and red staining his golden skin as the colors slipped past his lips and onto the ground. Jiung doesn’t want to see it anymore, so he squeezes his eyes shut, even though he knows it won’t do anything, and lets Taeyang lead him through the halls. </p><p>Each step echoes more than the one before it, but Jiung still won’t open his eyes. Unwilling to watch the sterile, white walls as they blurred together and passed by. He doesn’t stop walking until Taeyang stills and Jiung nearly bumps into him, eyes snapping open in surprise, only to be met with Taeyang’s clear, deep-brown eyes and pursed lips. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Jiung shakes his head. Taeyang doesn’t press, doesn’t ask Jiung if he’s ready to go in. He waits for Jiung to take the first step and doesn’t say anything, even as the seconds slowly bleed into minutes, and Jiung makes no move to open the door.</p><p>Keeho is in there. Keeho is behind this door, alone. Jiung doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see, anymore, but he’s praying that it’s not something that’s going to break him, or Taeyang, or Shota. </p><p>
  <em> Open the door, Jiung. Just open the fucking door. </em>
</p><p>He opens the door.</p><p>Keeho’s tired eyes are the first thing he sees, and Jiung takes several shaky steps forward before all but collapsing in the chair at Keeho’s beside.</p><p>He’s here, and he’s hooked up to a bunch of machines, with a mask over his face and tube shoved down his throat, looking at Jiung with too much <em> something </em> in his eyes that Jiung can’t identify. Maybe it’s relief, or maybe it’s not and Jiung is only believing what he wants to believe, but none of that matters because Keeho is <em> here </em> and he’s <em> okay. </em></p><p>Jiung sobs, reaching out for Keeho before stopping himself. Scared to touch him, scared to hurt him. Scared to see him crumble in Jiung’s arms again.</p><p>His heart breaks when he sees Taeyang practically throw himself at Keeho, breaking down and wailing into his chest and everything sounds like it’s underwater. Jiung can’t hear a thing past the pounding in his ears and the beeping of the heart-rate monitor next to him.</p><p>Keeho is okay. Keeho is going to be okay. He’s here, clutching onto the eldest’s jacket as Taeyang sobs into his chest, and Jiung can’t help but feel like everything he’s thought in the past few hours was just him being paranoid.</p><p>Keeho is the strongest person Jiung knows. </p><p>Yet, he still can’t erase the image of Keeho’s face twisted in a panicked agony, can’t rid himself of the acrid scent of Powerade mixed with the too-sweet antifreeze, can’t take his eyes away from Keeho. Jiung is afraid that if he looks away, that light is going to go out.</p><p>Keeho may be okay, but Jiung isn’t.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Turns out, Keeho isn’t either.</p>
<hr/><p>“I’m happy to be home,” Keeho says with a wide grin, throwing himself down on the couch with a dramatic gesture. Jiung comes in just in time to hear their manager berating him, but Keeho only laughs and waves the man off.</p><p>It’s almost like he’s acting like none of it ever even happened, the only reminder being the scratchiness of Keeho’s voice and their manager’s constant reminder that he needs to take it easy and not overexert himself. </p><p>Taeyang had pulled him and Intak aside earlier, asking only one thing of them, and that was to look after Keeho if there was any time Taeyang wasn’t around. Keep him away from Twitter. Stop him from practicing. Make sure he’s okay.</p><p>And that was the craziest part. Keeho <em> seems </em> okay. More okay than Jiung thinks he could be, had it been him in the leader’s position.</p><p>Yet, still, Jiung can’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Every time Keeho disappears from his sight, he feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, and the only way to settle it is either going to Keeho, or waiting for Keeho to come back to him. It makes him feel like a bit of a lost puppy, yes, but Jiung would rather come off as overbearing than find himself in another scenario where he has Keeho’s convulsing body in his arms.</p><p>It takes hours that night for Jiung to fall asleep, and when he does, it’s not restful. He’s stuck in a never ending loop of red and blue and red and blue and<em> gold, </em>slipping through his fingers and staining the ground below him. </p><p>He wakes up with a jolt, his stomach rolling and lungs constricting, too tight. So tight Jiung doesn’t know if he’s even breathing, or if his chest is just heaving with a fruitless effort to take in air, but nothing’s working. Nothing seems to be working because Jiung can’t breathe. </p><p>He doesn’t deserve too, anyway—not if Keeho isn’t with him. Not if Keeho isn’t breathing. Not if Keeho’s bright gold is now dulled. Not when—</p><p>Suddenly, Jiung feels warm hands cupping his face. He sniffles, grasping onto the hands and opening his eyes, expecting to see Taeyang’s blurry face through his tears, but that’s not the case.</p><p>“Hey, it’s me,” Keeho’s face slowly comes into focus. He’s kneeling on Jiung’s bed, he’s in front of Jiung, which he knows can’t be right because Jiung <em> swears </em> he just saw Keeho’s lifeless body on that hospital bed.</p><p>He can’t help but stare at Keeho, at the stars he sees lighting up his vision behind him, as his heart continues to beat at an uncontrollable speed. He tries to say something, anything, but the words won’t come and his breath hitches again, sobs wracking his frame. </p><p>Just like he had with Taeyang, Keeho pulls Jisung against his chest and holds him there, lets him muffle his cries against his t-shirt. Belatedly, Jiung thinks he can hear Intak stirring before leaving the room, but he can’t bring himself to focus on anything other than the steady, rhythmic beating of Keeho’s heart against his ear.</p><p>It’s a reminder that his dream had been merely that, a dream, and Keeho is still here in front of him. His breathing slows down to match Keeho’s over-exaggerated inhales, choppy at first, but he manages to take a deep breath after several minutes, and then another one, and another.</p><p>Only then does Keeho pull away slightly, lifting Jiung’s face to press their foreheads together, and Jiung can’t even mourn the loss of that steady heartbeat before Keeho is softly singing in his ear.</p><p>They stay in that position for what feels like hours, Jiung feels himself drifting back under before the sound of their door clicking open startles him back awake. Taeyang walks in with slow, cautious steps, Jiung’s eyes follow him the entire way across the room.</p><p>Taeyang doesn’t say anything as he takes a seat on the other side of Keeho, planting a reassuring kiss on his boyfriend’s temple before crawling forward slightly to do the same with Jiung.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Taeyang softly asks, not even needing either Jiung or Keeho to fill him in on what happened.</p><p>Jiung considers it, just for a second, before shaking his head and moving to tuck himself back against Keeho’s chest, only relaxing when he feels the other boy rest his chin on top of his unruly, blonde hair.</p><p>He <em>really</em> doesn’t have to explain, because Keeho only holds him tighter and promises, “I’m not going anywhere, Jiungie. I promise.”</p><p>Jiung wants to argue that there’s no way Keeho can make a promise like that, but Taeyang and Keeho’s warm presences on either side of him are enough security to lull him back to sleep.</p><p>“It’s okay now,” Jiung hears Taeyang whisper, but he doesn’t know which of them it was aimed at, and it doesn’t matter, because Keeho is the one to respond.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispers back, and Jiung swears he can hear the same waiver in his voice that he had after collapsing in Jiung’s arms, “I love you. Thank you.” And then, almost too quiet for Jiung to hear as Keeho’s lips press against his temple, “Thank you too, Jiung. For being my guardian angel.</p><p>Jiung falls asleep to Keeho’s heartbeat against his temple. A reminder that the sky was still painted golden, as long as Keeho is with him. </p><p> </p><p>When Jiung wakes up the next morning, with his head still pillowed on Keeho’s chest and Taeyang’s arms wrapped securely around his waist, he makes no move to get up. No move to alert the others that he’s even awake, and just listens to Taeyang’s warm voice and Keeho’s still-hoarse timber for hours.</p><p>Until the sun burned high in the sky and the dark was gone.</p>
<hr/><p>Everything feels different.</p><p>Jiung notices several things, in the following days, and he doesn’t say anything. He’s knows he should, he knows he should at least say something to Taeyang, but there’s no way he hasn’t noticed as well.</p><p>There’s no way he hasn’t noticed how Keeho refuses to go anywhere alone—Jiung understood that one, truly, he did—or the way his face flushes with panic whenever Shota offers him a drink as they sit down to eat, and Keeho takes it with a grimace to avoid seeing Shota’s face falling, even as his hands shake when he sets the drink down. Where it would remain, untouched.</p><p>Jiung notices how blue Powerade, or any Powerade, never appears in their fridge again—instead being replaced with an abundance of sealed bottles of water, the only thing Jiung has seen Keeho drink since returning from the hospital.</p><p>Jiung doesn’t say anything, even though he wants to.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He’s awoken by screaming. </p><p>At first, he thinks it may be his own, but in the seconds it takes him to become more aware, Jiung quickly realizes it’s not. It’s Keeho’s.</p><p>Jiung throws the covers off his body without another thought, not bothering to answer Intak’s sleep-hazy question of <em> ‘What’s wrong?’ </em> before climbing into Keeho’s bed and pulling the sobbing boy against his chest.</p><p>“Shhhhhh, Keeho-yah,” Jiung mumbles, half-awake, gently rocking from side to side, “Shhhh, shhhhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay, everything is gonna be okay.”</p><p>Suddenly, he’s backstage again, and Keeho is sobbing in his arms and crying out in pain and Jiung can’t think. Adrenaline courses through his veins as he listens to each cry become more raw and broken with every shuddering breath he takes.</p><p>Jiung’s eyes burn just at the sight of Keeho falling apart, unable to breathe in a way that Jiung had never understood until recently. He gets it now, and that makes it hurt so, so much more.</p><p>Just like last time, almost as though he had a sixth sense for when comfort was needed, Taeyang crawls into Keeho’s bed like it’s the most natural thing for him to do. Shooting a tired, worried glance to Jiung as he folds himself around his boyfriend, caging him between them and holding everything together. </p><p>If Keeho was the stars, then Taeyang was the sun. Warm and bright and comforting. Jiung wonders what that makes him.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Taeyang, once again, reminds Keeho, and Jiung can’t help but believe him, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll keep you safe, Keeho. Just let it out, it’s okay. I love you.”</p><p>The next sob Keeho lets out startles Jiung slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, unable to do anything but hold him tighter as he rocks them slowly, just like Keeho had done for him. Tears wet Jiung’s neck, turning his skin tacky as Keeho’s fingers clutch at his shirt, desperation shaking his shoulders nearly as hard as his sobs were.</p><p>They sit like that for what <em> truly </em> must be hours, this time, and no one seems to have any plans of letting go. Even after Keeho’s sobs turn into watery exhales and Taeyang’s whispered reassurances become gentle praises.</p><p>“You’re doing so well, Angel. So, so well. Just stay with us. Okay, baby? I love you, and I’m never gonna leave your side, as long as you’ll have me.”</p><p>Jiung nods his agreement, but his voice feels like it’s stuck in his throat every time he opens his mouth. </p><p>It’s not until several more minutes pass, with nothing but their breathing echoing in the room before Jiung finally feels like he’s capable of speaking around the lump in his chest. “Are you okay?” And it feels like a stupid question, but it’s the only one Jiung can think to ask, “I—I mean, I know you’re not, but it’s okay. It’s okay not to be okay, that’s why we’re here, right? To help?”</p><p>Keeho sniffles, mumbles something against Jiung’s chest that’s mostly inaudible, but it makes Taeyang chuckle all the same.</p><p> </p><p>Jiung isn’t okay, and neither is Keeho—but that’s okay, because they have each other, and they have Taeyang. </p><p>If Taeyang is the sun and Keeho is the stars, maybe Jiung can find a place for himself in their sky. Maybe he can be their moon, there to reflect their light and shine alongside them.</p><p> </p><p>Jiung has always been fearful of the dark, until now. Now that he has the stars to guide him at night, and a sun that rises every morning as it brings the promise of a new day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im not gonna lie.....there is a likely gonna be a third part of this series in theo's pov that involves them getting together....haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oopsies </p><p>comments and kudos always appreciated<br/>maybe check out my other fics while ur here and follow me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/MVforVictory">@MVforVictory</a>~~</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>